Shattered
by AndNotAsALastResort
Summary: about ginny and her companion...a knife. dark but...not bad :S ;) ~ plz r & r!!! ^-^ (contains harriness) ...and yes, there is cornyness...tho i'm hoping not TOO much :s
1. Shattered

Disc: okees, so I don't think I have anything to disclaim... oh wait!! Silly me! I forgot to mention Harry (don't want him). Hogwarts belongs to m...yeah okay that's JK's too...but the blood is mine! (Or at least some of it)*_*::

A/N: So Ginny's got kinda a hard-ish life, what with the whole 'Voldie's ba-ack' thing and Harry always being a jerkwad to her and stuff. So he's nice today!!!^-^ The topic down there is really serious, though-cutting is a way out for lots of people and I'm NOT trying to make fun of it or anything like that. If anything, I'm trying to say that it's hard for people sometimes and that cutting isn't the right way. *-AND it's just a fanfic too.*

I guess flames are okay, 'cos I need to improve and everything, as long as they're not TOO personal...;-_-;

This *gestures to the oh-so-obvious 'chapter 1' down there* is chapter one (1!) of hopefully many chapters to come about Ginny and the Dark Side... (daduhhhh....)

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Chapter 1

Shattered

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Ginny stared out at the silver lawns and the glassy, moonlit lake. For a moment, as she looked over the dark treetops, the moon glistened like a jewel, and then the dark clouds pulled it away and the rain began to fall. It fell in heavy, unspoiled drops, drenching the wide grounds in seconds. It was pure, clean liquid. As it touched the ground in mingled with the dirt and became mud. Thick, ugly, unwanted water. Like tears. Dirty tears.

The dimly-lit common-room that her back was turned to was bustling with sound of voices and laughter. But she had unknowingly blocked it from her ears. Thunder roared outside, echoing through the old castle. The storm was already upon them. People behind her jumped and several shrieked. She didn't even shift from her seat on the window ledge. She had sunk into the very spot and would never move from it. Couldn't

She stared blankly at her left wrist. No one noticed her. In her shaking right hand, something glinted silver. She raised a stiff arm, palm outstretched, and drew a deep, steadying breath. Her right hand, clutching the glinting thing, went to her left wrist and made a tiny prick. The prick grew to a tiny cut, which grew to-

She winced for the first time and looked down at the clouds of blood appearing on her arm. Her left hand had balled into a fist so tight that her whole arm shook, and her fingernails were piercing her palm, spilling more blood. She dropped the shining object in her other hand and lifted a middle finger, touching it to the red on her wrist and bringing it slowly to her lips.

And he watched her.

She tasted. And her insides shattered. Her mouth was filled with a horrifyingly powerful, warm, thrill. It was the taste of death-no, life. It was the power of all life; the real Elixir. People should have to plead and savor and long for this life-giving liquid. Why was blood always just provided, and not granted only upon those worthy? Why was it not only the powerful or the intelligent, who were sure to put this wonder to good use and not take it for granted, that deserved a pleasure like this? She brought her finger back to her wrist, feeling the fluid flow wildly under her fingertip and wondering why he deserved this.

A shadow fell over her and she raised her head.

"You'll need to bandage that."

And his eyes met hers; those eyes that had haunted her sleep for so long. Deep and green like the depths of the deepest ocean, washing over her in waves of understanding, taking her by surprise.

He took her wrist in his hand. Like he knew. Maybe he did.

And they just stared at each-other. Her whole body had stopped, and she was watching his brow furrow a bit as he examined her face. Her eyes finally faltered under his gaze and he looked down at the blood that was caressing her arm like a new skin.

He had seen what she had done. And he knew what a fool she was. Maybe he thought she was crazy. And what if he knew what she had been thinking? -Like she could...kill. Like she could take blood and lives and hold them over the heads of the weak, taunting and challenging them to beat her. Like a Death Eater. Like a monster that sucked the blood of the world...

"...Or it won't stop bleeding,"

He paused, his eyes warning and meaningful. She raised her head, just a bit, and watched the blood slowly escape from her body. Leaving her, all alone, in her skin. She felt very faint.

"...And that could do you some harm."

Her eyes stung like fire and her throat tightened. She stood quickly and flung her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. For one shocked moment her was stiff with shock and unease. Then his arms folded gently around her back and her as her tears melted into his robes. She clung to his warm body, spilling her fears out in her tears, gasping quietly into his shoulder to breathe. And they stood there together, a dark boy with a scar and a trembling redhead, completely unnoticed by their many surroundings.

All at once, as if just realizing the horror of what she had just let herself do, she drew away and grasped her red wrist once more. She stepped out of his way to head, shaking, towards the portrait-hole.

"Where are you going? He called after her.

She stopped and turned.

"To get a bandaid." She smiled.


	2. Lust for Blood

chap2 Lust for Blood

I know, I know, but SHORT IS MAH STYLE^-^

Disc: You know it, you smart fanfiction puppies***. Only the weird plot is mine. I know there's a problem with the whole '_very _out-of-character' thing but I'm trying, kays^-^? 

A/N: Umn…I know it's one of those scenarios where it would most likely NEVER happen, but I just HAD to write this and I'm kinda having fun, no matter how dark this might get. Reviewwwzzzz???? I luv y'all… 

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Chapter 2

Lust for Blood

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Ginny awoke the next morning feeling simply _delightful_. All night her head had been filled with the most peaceful dreams and they had left her feeling fresh, and new, yet a little dizzy. But she supposed she had just sat up too quickly. She pulled back the overhanging of her bed and reached for the glass of water on her bedside table when something on her wrist caught her eye.

__

The bandaid.

It was soaked. She had completely forgotten. How could she have? But she didn't even remember _why_ she had done it…that _tiny_ little cut. She remembered what she had thought about it. _Everything_ she had thought about it. Lust for blood. Taste of the living. A finger of ice crept up her spine and chilled her body beneath her many warm comforters. 

Those were _her_ thoughts.

They hadn't been encouraged or provoked into her mind; they hadn't been seen or heard once and then repeated over; they hadn't been insanity or even just a bumble of nonsense words that had _almost_ fallen from her lips…they were _hers_. …Thought up, thought over, and almost _acknowledged_ by her. What if she turned out to be one of those…_monsters_?

Life Suckers, in the ranks of the Dementors, tearing down alliances made between wizards; uprooting families and friendships; ripping apart dreams and ambitions and futures… would that someday be _her_ walking hand in hand with tyrants like that? In league with the Dark Lord himself? But she had wanted them stopped. …_Did still_ want them stopped. …Right? 

She quickly drew back her outstretched hand and grasped the stinging bandaid in her pale, stiff fingers. She was suddenly very ashamed. _No-one_ could see this…

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She had expected Harry to ignore her, as he usually did. But letting it all slide, it seemed, was the last thing on his mind that morning as she made her way down to breakfast with the rest of her dorm. No-one had noticed her wrist and the fresh bandage the covered it. What had she expected? Would they even care? The bitterness had begun to take over her mind again, the lovely dreams of the night before already faded.

"I won't tell."

That was the first whole sentence she had heard directed only to _her_ that morning. It was whispered in her ear from behind, and it wouldn't take a genius to guess whose voice it was.

"I didn't expect you to," she told him, as casually as she could. Without stopping, or even turning to look at him, she quickly asked,

"Do you want anything or something?" 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew they sounded harsh and ungrateful. She hadn't meant it like that, it was just-

"What do you mean?"

She turned to him. He had stopped, and he looked so disgustingly innocent and surprised that she was immediately sickened. The students all around them pushed past the two stationary figures briskly on their way to the Great Hall. She searched herself for the right words to say, but none came. She spoke what she thought instead. Not a good idea.

"It's just-you've never really gave a damn what was going on with me, right? So…so why should you care if you see me jab something in my arm and watch it bleed?" She looked around to see if anyone had heard, but they were alone in the dark corridor now. She continued.

"It's not like it makes any difference to you, and what I do to myself is _my business_."

He stood, speechless, until his face flared red.

"So you're just going to say that you don't _care_ that I probably saved your life last night? Are you honestly saying that you wished you _had_ bled 'till you died? And you think that _nobody_ would care? You've got friends who'd care, a family who'd care…a _family_, Ginny. Do you have _any_ idea how _lucky _you are to have one? You're part of this whole deal here, part of Hogwarts and all of us-you think we'd just let you go? That could have been your _life_, Ginny, _think_ about it."

If this little speech had got to her, she was trying hard not to let it show. She said the nastiest thing on her mind, and even Mrs. Weasley would have slapped her.

"It's not like you've never saved a life before. Let alone mine."

She said it so quietly that she was almost inaudible. But he heard, and he looked hurt.

__

What had gotten into her?

Before she would have to see another second of the wounded, haunted look on his face, she turned on her heel and made her way down to the Entrance Hall, passing the door to the Great Hall, where the sounds of clinking dishes and laughter followed her outside. She didn't much feel like eating anymore.


	3. Unhealed Wounds

chap3 Unhealed Wounds

I think Ginny's kinda neurotic in this one. '_all this thinking, all this terrible, horrible thinking…_' -or maybe just kinda dumb. But it's always fun when Ginny's mentally unstable…..

No really. It's meant to be kinda creepy, OK Guys w/ a Zed*? (if you understood that inside joke 'Boyz w/ a Zed' then pleeeeeeez email me @ 

shiva_ _fae@hotmail.com…)

Disc: erm…~~J-K!! ALL-THE-WAY! ~~J-K!! ALL-THE-WAY!

A/N: And here lies another _wonderful_ chapter of my _wonderful_ story (happy reviews? flames?), in which Ginny is somewhat disturbed. She's always on the right side. Or this time, will she choose the _wrong_ side…(daduuuh).…..read to find out ^-^

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Chapter 3

Unhealed Wounds

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It was cold. She rubbed her chilled cheeks with frozen fingers. The wind was blowing her wild red hair in her eyes and the black skies were casting eerie shadows over her body. She still wouldn't go inside. Her left wrist stung as if salt had been rubbed in her wound. She wished it had, it was the only thing she deserved. What an _idiot_ she was, thinking the things she had been thinking; saying the things she had said to the only one who had tried to help her. And the more she thought about last night, the colder it made her mind, and the warmer her heart became. 

She had always wanted him to be near her, and last night he had been. He had held her and comforted her in his silence, and she had been _so_ _grateful_…but she had blown it all on some silly notion that blood could give her everything. She had wasted her only chance to at least be his friend. She doubted he would ever come near her again. 

He probably thought she was just a crazy, hateful bitch, ungrateful to the fact that he had saved her life now, _twice_. True, she had never thanked him, but how could she? She couldn't just _say_ it, like it meant nothing, like it was some casual but kind response to a good birthday present, or a lovely date or something. She was really in _debt_ to him, and that meant something _other_ than just a simple 'thank-you'.

And so she dug her fingernails into the slowly healing cut, ripping it open again and giving a sharp cry at the pain that stabbed at her arm. It did not bleed. She tried again. And again. And _again_. Her arm was still milky-white, though aching and raw and throbbing, but unstained.

She leaned back, an old willow the only thing keeping her head up. The wind was so loud that it carried of her dry, racking sobs and vanished them. She wanted to die there, and leave the cruel, wretched world to someone who could use it. But…couldn't she?

Her weeping slowed and was soon replaced by hash, heavy breathing. She flicked a tear from her cheek. Ambition was the only thing she needed. Not even lack of courage would stop her. If she joined them…_but she couldn't go against him_. All these years that she had hungered for him, wanting to dispel the hunted look in his eyes and replace the misery with love, and she couldn't go back on it. She was too deep in the river to go back, and she just couldn't fight the current. It was too strong.

__

The thinking. All the nasty, horrible truth. It hurt her head.

She gritted her teeth once more, sick of all the reason that was entering her mind, and stabbed away at the unhealed wound once more. The fresh smell of her flowing blood was already beginning to fill her senses. She could almost see the red glimmer of her life fluid trickling along her skin. She was waiting, waiting for the blood to spill once more, wanting to pay for all her stupidity…

"I'm sorry."

Her hand relaxed and fell to her lap. She stared, tears rolling slowly down her cold cheek.

"Please don't."

She was shaking by now. She wanted to say everything, but she didn't dare.

"Don't come near me. I mean it. I'm…I'm…"

The gift of speech left her. He came closer.

"I know it's everything…about the war…but I also know it's something else. What is it?"

"Can't tell you." She had stopped crying now, and was rocking back and forth a bit; like always did when she was scared or worried.

"Then don't. But tell _someone_. It's feeding on you and you've got to let it out somehow. I know how it feels, believe me. Last year-"

"You don't understand," She almost yelled. Her eyes were shut tight now as if she thought that if she opened them, she would see all her worst fears and nightmares rolled into one. She spoke into the ground, her face facing his feet, "I'm…losing it. Thinking things I shouldn't. Wanting to _do_ things-"

"One night, after the Third Task, I dreamt Voldemort was killing Cedric's parents. -Finishing of the job, I guess. And I had been thinking, in the dream, that if I had just taken the cup _without_ Cedric, three more people would have been alive. It was a Portkey, the cup, to where Voldemort and his Death Eaters were. Then they both turned to me, just before they died, 'cause I guess they could see me…and they just stared at me. And they said…" his face was very white, his lips were thin, and his nostrils were flared as if he were trying not to cry, "and they said that it was all because of me. And they blamed me for everything. Over and over and over until…"

He stopped. So his were still unhealed wounds too, not that she had expected any different. But they were completely different wounds, not at all what he thought hers to be. She felt disgraced and depraved. She was crying inside for all the wrong reasons…

"But my parents told me to hold on, that night when Cedric was killed, so I did. And I am. And I'm telling you to hold on too."

Something in his voice made her look at him, but he didn't catch her eye. He was sitting beside her, knees drawn up to his chest, staring off at nothing in particular. His eyes were steely and hard, and his mouth was turned down in distaste.

But…_his parents?_ Was he maybe going crazy, like her? But it was the way his eyes so coldly the grey waters of the lake and the dark treetops of the swaying forest that told her that he was very much telling the truth. That something had happened that night, something so amazing, that could have let him see his dead parents one more time. She felt the tears coming back.

She struggled in wet sympathy to understand him. She couldn't.

And as they both sat there, as two opposites, they reached out to comfort each other with their silence; understanding, somehow, each others' wound; though theirs were very different indeed.


	4. We're All Infected Now

A/N: :p... well... this chapter was written some MONTHS ago, but then my computer crashed (*damn PC*) and... well you know what happens when your computer crashes, right? ...And I just thought, "Might as well give up on the whole damn thing". But one day in the car, while I was thinking about Bk5 and how sick I am of waiting (Summer 2002, People! :D), I decided that I felt like doing some more work on it, so... Without further ado, I give you...  
  
Disc:Wait, wait! Can't forget the disclaimer! Yeah...you know the deal. Oh, and David Usher isn't mine, but someday he will be and Serial Joe will be my mistress... ;)  
  
Ps: I know the words down there aren't exactly right but it's not my fault 'cos I don't have the words. And I know that the name Ginny being in there is very far-fetched, but hey! -It's a possibility!  
  
  
ginny's on the bathroom floor  
she don't know why  
shakin underneath the sink  
can't feel a thing  
shed love to live her life  
shes too afraid of  
failure  
with all the voices in her head  
now what was that i thought i heard you scream...  
  
-David Usher, Alone in the Universe  
  
  
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we're all infected now.  
  
  
She had said that she wouldn't do it... or had she? She couldn't remember. But it didn't matter. Her flesh succumbed to the dull knife, ripping slowly.  
  
Like a hot knife through butter.  
  
The thought made her smile. She felt the blood trickle down among the hairs on her arm, tickling her numb skin. She winced a bit at the pain.  
  
The blood was warm and fresh. She could almost smell it; the smell of the dead; but it was nice. Relieving. And lowering her lips to it, she tasted the iron, and she tasted the magic that flowed with it through her veins. It tasted like-  
  
Bang! Bang!  
  
"Hello? Is someone in there? Look, just unlock the door! I've gotta go! Hello?"  
  
"What is it?" Another voice.  
  
"The door's locked again!"  
  
There was a pause. Then the second girl spoke, her voice much lower.  
  
"... She must have locked herself in there again. There's no chance; don't bother. You'll never get her out."  
  
"Vain little witch."  
  
  
  
  
The two girls' footsteps faded away. Ginny was glad they had gone, but... it was then that she realized how alone she was; hidden in the corner of the girls' washrooms, huddled under the sink and into the shadows. But this only made her more desperate.  
  
I am alone. I am alone. I am alone.  
  
She turned these words over in her mind as she whispered them, rocking back and forth on her heels. She had to find the meaning. Alone... alone... Alone: without the presence or help of others. Alone: Ginny. Curled up in a little ball against the wall of the loo. This.  
  
"Ginny?"  
  
She dropped the knife. It was the same voice that had bade her not to-  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
She scrambled for her knife and fumbled hopelessly with it as she tried to sheath it in its leather pouch. She finally managed, and she shoved it into her pocket, hiding it from him. She reached for a towel to stop the bleeding and hid it in her sleeve.  
  
"I know you're in there. I heard two girls talking downstairs-"  
  
As if for the first time, Ginny felt the real pain in her wrist that she had caused. It made her whole body ache. He began to pound on the door, rattling the doorknob urgently.  
  
"Ginny let me in."  
  
She didn't move.  
  
"Ginny I want to see what you're doing. Let me in."  
  
Her eyes flitted from her arm to the door. She moved her legs out from underneath her.  
  
"Ginny..."  
  
She began to crawl towards the door.  
  
Bang.  
  
He had gotten it open, and now he was standing there, his wand in his hand. He looked at her for a minute; on all fours halfway across the room, her face deathly white ...and then she watched as his eyes scanned the bathroom. Ginny moved her leg and it brushed against the heavy knife in her pocket. He was looking for it. She kept her face as unreadable as she could. His eyes came back to her.  
  
"Were you..."  
  
She looked at him. He knew that she knew what he was about to say. So he didn't bother finishing.  
  
She sat back on her feet, suddenly angry. Why didn't he trust her?  
  
"Don't you trust me, Harry?"  
  
His face was expressionless.  
  
"Do you think that I would go back on my on my word with you? After I said that I wouldn't? Ever?"  
  
Still his face did not change.  
  
"What were you doing in here?" His voice was calm. He stared steadily at her, his eyes boring into hers; he was trying to read them.  
  
She blanched.  
  
"...Girl stuff."  
  
"... Oh." He blushed.  
  
"Well... uh... there are still two girls downstairs in desperate need of the bathroom right now too, so..."  
  
"Right." She stood up.  
  
He held the door open and gestured with one hand to the hallway outside, smiling. She got the hint. As she passed through the doorway, she stopped and turned to him, opening her mouth. -He got to it first.  
  
"Just wanted to see if you were okay."  
  
That was a good enough answer for her. She swept off out of the bathroom and made her way down the hall.  
  
  
  
***  
  
He watched her leave until she was out of sight. Then he turned to face the door again. Inside on the floor he saw the glint of the silver knife where it had fallen out of its leather sheath. It had escaped her pocket when she had stood up to leave. He had seen it fall, but she hadn't noticed it.  
  
Quickly, he scooped it up and hid it in his cloak. He masked the disappointment in his face with a content-seeming smile as he crossed the busy common-room. The trip to his dorm seemed long, and made him weary. Finally, at the end of his journey, he tucked it underneath his socks in his trunk, receiving a very funny look from Ron.  
  
  
  
***  
  
"It's gone. ...But... but it was right here, in my pocket, when I took of my robes..." Her hoarse whisper was directed at no-one. She was rummaging through her clothes, strewing them about the room; frantically searching for that which was no-where near her. A strangled cry escaped her lips and she let out a dry sob.  
  
"Harry." 


	5. Reach Me

A/N: ...erm what can I say? ...I have this little problemo involving her and *koffkoff'tom'koffkoff* ...:$

Disc: *hmmph* Harry P. Belongs to lil Miss J. K. Murray over there in England or Scotland or wherever she is now, and Hermia (though I dont think I have to disclaim her) belongs to Shakespeare, who belongs to that girly Duke fellow that he wrote all those sonnets about (who is now, of course, deceased). (ooh! Ooh! and the title is also a song but I don't know which one)

*ahem*

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_Methought a serpent eat my heart away,_

And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.

_-A Midsummer Night's Dream_, William Shakespeare

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tried to reach me...

but i lay upon the ground

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***

"I can give you anything you want, Ginny."

He raised his wand and smiled. All her healed wounds opened, and her own blood began to seep out, soaking her robes. Her body was drowning in a warm, numbing pain.

"Oh thank you, Tom!"

***

Ginny bolted upright, her breathing heavy and her eyes wide. Her white nightdress was drenched in sweat. She checked her arms frantically. Only fine lines of brownish-red dried blood could be seen when she lifted the bandages. She covered the cuts again, looking cautiously around her. No-one had seen; it was still too dark in the dorm.

She was afraid to go back to sleep.

She couldn't remember any of what had happened before, but the last part was enough to make her sick. She didn't need Tom anymore. He wasn't even there.

Ginny closed her eyes and something suddenly compelled her to think about her little silver knife, and the way it made those little, hairlike red slivers across her wrists. Then she remembered where it was, and her eyes shot open.

He had it.

And for a moment she felt as though she hated him. Hated him with everything she had, for taking the knife, and for thinking he could help her... and for trying to stop her.

...But then again...

***

Jumping out of her bed and flinging open the door, Ginny walked as quickly and as quietly as she could down the stairs, forgetting even her dressing gown. She hurried across the silent common- room and turned up the dark stairs to her brother's dorm.

She eased the door open and stepped inside.

It was too dark to see much, but she could make out a magnificent broom leaning against one of the bedposts, illuminated by a small sliver of light shining in though the half- opened window.

That was the one.

The trunk at the foot of his bed was open, and she dug her hands into it, furiously feeling around for the cold of her knife or the coarse, warm feeling of the leather sheath. She moved over to the other side, trying to reach further in, when-

Slam!

She had knocked over the Firebolt, and it clattered aross the floor, hitting something else and knocking it over.

She stood completely still.

"Ron? That you?" a voice groaned.

She tried to sink into the shadows.

Harry drew back the hangings. She had no choice now. He would see her sooner or later, or hear her leaving. She stepped out beside his bed, startling him, and knelt down on her knees to look at him level. She could see his confused face through the darkness, looking into hers. He sat up abruptly, so that he was now looking down over her. He looked worried now.

"Harry," she whispered desperately, "please... I'm sorry... just- just let me have it back... "

Comprehension spread over his face. The anger and hurt. He sprang up and pushed Ginny gently but quickly aside. And at that moment he spotted his trunk, its contents strewn carelessly about the floor, and he turned to her, his breathing heavy.

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her upright. Dragging her outside of his dorm, he turned violently to face her. He sounded and looked angry, but something filled his eyes, dark in the lightless hallway. Pity. Worry. Even Fear.

She spoke before he could.

"I just wanted to talk to-"

It was no help.

"Talk. Talk? If you wanted to talk, you should've come straight to me! Remember that for next time, please?" his whisper was hurried and indignant. He was having trouble keeping his voice low. Ginny heard someone stir in a room down the hall.

"You can't have it back, Ginny, I'm sorry. I can't risk that."

"_You_ can't risk that? But-"

"No buts. I want to help you."

She looked back at him defiantly. He kept his eyes on hers as he continued.

"... I trust you. I just don't trust him."

She looked at him for a while. He was still holding her arm, but it was a gentlegrasp, and he slowly slid his hand down to hers. He was looking at her so seriously... She looked down at their hands; he was clasping hers now tightly. And when she saw them she suddenly understood. And she looked up at Harry with a look of horror on her face. He released his grasp.

And that was when she ran.


End file.
